


The Damned

by backouttathis



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1686368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backouttathis/pseuds/backouttathis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Angel, a demon and a human walked into a bar. (Supernatural AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Damned

He found her stalking.                                                                                                          

 

She was watching him in the bookshop, following him in the supermarket, sitting two rows behind him in opera. It wasn’t so difficult to spot. After all, you don’t get something holy and fiery staring at the back of your head every day.

 

He was waiting for her to make the first move. You see, angels are — well, how he should say this without sounding too arrogant — a bit thick. All of their attack techniques require them to be really close to their opponents and hence they usually walk right into the traps.

 

He pulled himself a glass of red wine and looked out of the window. She was sitting under a tree, holding her knees like a lost kid.

 

Patience had been one of his rare virtues and curiosity had been his greatest flaw.

 

He sighed, and opened the French window.

 

“Do you have an appointment?” He asked innocently, playing his cover, a caring and well-mannered psychiatrist, with absolute precision.

 

“Do you have a beer?” she smiled.

 

It was until that moment, he realized that her wings were burnt.

 

 

 

“Hannibal Lecter.” he introduced himself, with a scalpel hiding in his sleeve.

 

“Alana Bloom.” said the angel, sunshine in her eyes.

 

 

 

He wasn’t quite sure what she could possibly want from him or how she found him in the first place. But he decided to keep her for a moment.

 

She didn’t bore him, like most living things did.

She wandered off in his library while he was getting that beer for her.

 

“Are all these your patients?” She turned over the page mindlessly, “I didn’t expect your kind to be so…immaculate.”

 

“Well, I am a psychiatrist.” He looked up at her from downstairs. Even though she lost wings, there was still this indescribable sacred and inviolable aura around her. It must be her lavender perfume.

 

“And they just tell you all these intimate things? Confusion, confession and doubts?”

 

“Yes, believe it or not, I am one of the modern ‘priests’.”

 

“Interesting.” She took the beer without hesitation and sipped.

 

Oh the angels! Such a trusting nature.

 

“You seem very accustomed to this mortal-styled life.” She put the notebook back to where it was and gave him a quick glance before taking another sip.

 

Ah. He could see where this was going.

 

“I love the mortals.” It was a half-truth. He loved them more as dishes.

 

“So you make them do your biddings?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

“I never force them.” He tilted his head slightly, “I simply help them to see what they truly are — animals.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, and then said, “Maybe, I should be a psychiatrist.”

 

“Perhaps.” That would make things much more intriguing. Last time he played this type of mind chess was 75 years ago and he won so easily. He missed the competition.

 

“I teach psychology at Georgetown University.” He sent her an invitation, “You should come.”


End file.
